Second Sight: An Away From Keyboard Romantic Suspense Standalone

by Patricia D. Eddy

  Once I’m on the elevator, I tap my phone. “Play voice message.”

  “Dax. I should have called sooner. I’m around. Not taking on any jobs for at least another week or two. Sampson just got back from his honeymoon. I…I went to the wedding. Bet you thought you’d never see—shit. I’m sorry, man. Wren says hi. Uh…call me back. If you want.”

  The elevator doors slide open, and I take two steps forward, listening for the telltale rumble of an idling engine. “About damn time,” Ford says from somewhere off to my left. As the car door thunks, I get my bearings and wave him off when his shadow moves close to my elbow.

  “I got this.”

  “Sure you do. Like you’ve got everything else in your life,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Enough.” I slide into the back seat, fold my cane, and shut the door, giving him time to round the car and join me. “One more word, and you’re handling these on your own. You want a fight, I’ll bench you and put Trevor on intake. I’m still the fucking boss, Ford. Don’t forget it.”

  The office quiets down after five, my team leaving one-by-one. Trevor’s the only one with an after-hours gig this week, and he’s holed up in the media room watching surveillance video of the thief who hit the Boston Museum of Art two weeks ago.

  The three raps startle me as I down the last of my lukewarm coffee. “What is it, Ford?”

  “I was about to head home. But,” he sighs, “I’m a glutton for punishment. You want to tell me what’s going on with you and Ryker?”

  “No. Talk to you tomorrow.” I don’t raise my head, don’t bother moving my hands from my keyboard. I have to wrap up a few outstanding email inquiries before I can take a couple of days away from the office—try to shove all those fucking memories back where they belong. Out of my head.

  “Jesus, Dax. You ended up in a fist fight with the guy because he ghosted you, and now when he calls, you ignore him? Make up your damn mind.”

  I try to glare at Ford, but since he knows I can’t see him, I doubt it’s very effective. “I’ll call him back. Later.”

  “You mourned the loss of that friendship for six fucking years. ‘Later’ isn’t good enough. When?”

  Anger stiffens my shoulders, and I swallow hard. “VoiceAssist, close email. Shut down computer,” I say. Pushing to my feet, I straighten to my full height and face my second in command. My friend. “When I’m goddamned ready to. Don’t bring it up again.”

  “Dax,” Ford reaches for my arm as I try to shoulder past him, and I jerk back, hitting the door jamb and losing my grip on my cane.

  “Don’t touch me,” I growl. “And get the fuck out of my way.”

  But he doesn’t back down. “You want a fight? Let’s go.”

  Twenty minutes later, I slam my locker door at Beantown Boxing and head for the ring. “Sal?” I call when the tip of my cane finds the steps. “You around?”

  “Right here, Sergeant. You need help with your gloves?” As Sal’s heavy footsteps thud closer, I fold the red and white monstrosity and hold up my hands. He tugs the boxing gloves over my taped knuckles and secures the wrist wraps firmly. “Been a while.”

  “Busy few weeks.”

  “You ready to get your ass kicked?” Ford asks as he claps his gloves together.

  “Ready to take you down.”

  Sal wraps his thick fingers around my elbow and helps me into the ring.

  I run my gloved hands across the ropes, getting my bearings. A few feet away, Ford clears his throat, and I scan the hazy, diffuse colors in front of me for his shadow. “On three,” I say.

  His countdown lets me know how far away he is, and I bring my hands up to guard my face. His first punch sails wide as I weave to the right, and I send an uppercut to his jaw.

  “You going to forget about that damn phone call?” I ask as I take two quick steps back into the ropes. The corner of the ring gives me a point of reference, and I tuck and roll towards where I think Ford’s standing, sweeping my leg out and catching him behind the ankles. He hits the mat with an oof, and I push to my feet and dance back until I hit the ropes again. “I’ll call him. Eventually.”

  Ford lands a jab to my obliques, and I try to dart away, but he sidesteps me and grabs my shoulders. “I don’t give a fuck when you call Ryker. But you’ve been a shitty boss and a shittier friend the past two weeks.”

  His knee rams my solar plexus, and I go down, coughing and sputtering. “What the hell does that mean?” Staggering to my feet, I raise my gloved hands and wait for him to give some form of audible cue.

  “Fight now. Talk later.”

  Whirling around, I curse under my breath. How the hell did he end up behind me? I may be blind, but I’m fucking Special Forces. We trained for missions in near darkness. In some of the worst conditions imaginable. Learned how to echolocate. How to anticipate our opponents. And Ryker and I spent most of our time in Hell blindfolded, relying on our other senses to help us survive. Pay attention, fucker. Get your head in the game.

  We spar until sweat drips into my eyes. And then, Ford lets loose with a barrage of jabs and crosses that drives me back into the ropes. “Enough,” I grunt, dropping my arms. “You win.” After a breath, when the heat from his body disappears, I add, “Today.”

  “You’ve got ten minutes,” Ford says. “Then we’re headed to the pub across the street, and you’re going to listen. After that, do whatever the hell you want about Ryker. But you’re going to hear me out. No interrupting.”

  “Fine.”

  I hear Ford slam his hands against the swinging doors to the locker room as Sal shuffles over to help me unlace my gloves. “Everything all right, Sergeant?”

  “It will be. But how many times do I have to ask you to call me Dax?” When my left hand is free, I swipe it across my brow.

  Sal chuckles. “Since I never made it out of the enlisted ranks, it’s never gonna do any good. Looked like a serious fight.”

  As Sal hands me my cane, I shake my head. “He’ll get over it.”

  But…will I?

  The bar’s quiet on a Monday evening. With my hand gripping Ford’s arm, I let him lead me to a booth in the corner. After we both take a swig of our beers, Ford clears his throat. “We do good work. You know that, right?”

  “We’re the best on the eastern seaboard. What’s this have to do with anything?” All I want is to finish my beer and go home. Try to eek out more than three hours in a row of shuteye.

  “Losing Wren—”

  “We didn’t lose Wren. She’s in Seattle. Not dead. And she still works for us.”

  He pauses long enough I almost ask if he’s all right, but then continues, “How many times have you talked to her since she left?”

  I don’t know what I expected him to say, but the question takes me by surprise. “Maybe four?”

  “And how many of those times did you ask about Ryker?”

  Bristling, I start to peel the label off my bottle. “None. And he didn’t ask about me either. We talked about work. About…how she likes Seattle.”

  “How she likes Seattle, but not how she’s doing or the man she’s in love with? The one she’s living with? Bullshit. You’d have to purposely sidestep that minefield.” His voice takes on the rasp of disbelief, and I slam the bottle down a little harder than I intend.

  The temptation to just get up and walk out of here hits me hard, but I clench my hands into fists under the table and count to five. One of Wren’s little tricks. Only for her, it helped her anxiety. For me…well, sometimes it stops me from laying into someone when I know they’re trying to help. “That shit’s between me and Ryker. You think I should go and chase the guy down? I won’t do that. I can’t.”

  “Not saying that at all.” Ford shifts, the leather booth creaking under his weight. He’s six-foot-ten—or so he says—and built like a linebacker. Sparring with him feels like going toe-to-toe with a tank. Ryker’s the only guy I know who’s bigger. “I’m saying every time you talk to Wren—and don’t address
the elephant in the room—you’re hurting everyone. Her, Ryker…me, the rest of the office…”

  “What the hell?” No amount of counting’s going to settle my anger now. “We’re friends, Ford, but I’m still the boss. If you have a problem with me—”

  “I don’t ‘have a problem’ with you, Dax. I’m worried.” His voice softens, and the table rocks under my elbow.

  Times like these, I miss my sight the most. My vision is limited to a diffuse haze and some very muted colors. Like someone smeared thick, dark grease all over a window. Something in front of me is darker than the brown wood booth, but flat, and almost two-dimensional. Right now, I wish I could see his eyes.

  “You’re not sleeping. Anyone can see that. And you’re short with everyone. How long until one of our clients notices?” He pauses, then chuckles, almost to himself. “You know…most of the time, I forget you can’t see. Wren wrote all those adaptive programs for you—hell, you’re a better typist than I am.”

  “You have more than ten years on me, old man. I had to learn typing in school.” It feels good to joke. But also…unfamiliar. How long has it been since I smiled? Or just…shot the shit with the men and women I work with? “Fuck.”

  “You get it now?”

  I take a long swig of my beer, swallowing hard over the lump in my throat. “Yeah. I think…I do.”

  I don’t open up. Don’t share. Other than with my shrink—and I haven’t seen him in two years. Ford…he’s not just my VP of Operations and weapons specialist. He’s my friend. And I can’t remember the last time we went out for drinks after work and just…talked.

  “You have time to grab a burger?” I ask as I return to peeling the label off my beer bottle.

  He slaps the table lightly. “That’s more like it.”

  2

  Evianna

  Pushing back from my computer, I drop my head into my hands. “Why now?” The deep breath does little to stop my heart from threatening to burst through my chest like some alien parasite.

  All morning, I’ve tried to find an explanation. Some reason for Kyle to violate his employment agreement. To make a copy of Alfie’s code and send it God knows where. We’re less than three weeks from launching the most advanced home security device the world has ever seen. And he has to do this now?

  He’s always been a model employee. A little dismissive at first—but so are a lot of guys in this industry. Until they realize I can code circles around them. And control their paychecks. Kyle got over himself after less than a week, and though every one of my team of fifteen programmers is top-notch, Kyle’s the best of them.

  Firing him this close to the finish line feels wrong. But the agreement he signed is ironclad. And Noah Goset—the CEO—won’t stand for disloyalty. After four hours pouring through the logs, hoping for some explanation, I admit defeat.

  Buzzing Noah, I try to relax my jaw. If I’m not careful, I’ll crack a molar.

  “Yes?” His terse voice warns me he’s about as stressed out as I am, and I force a deep breath before I respond.

  “I need to see you. There’s a problem with Kyle. Do you have a few minutes?”

  He sighs. “I’m meeting with New England Insurance Services in thirty. You need me, get in here right now.”

  Silence blares over the line, and I lock my workstation, grab my tablet, and head for Noah’s office at the other end of the bullpen. Beacon Hill Technologies takes up the top floor of one of the newer office buildings in the South End of Boston, and Noah and I have the two corner offices with the programmers working in a giant open space between us.

  At his frosted glass door, I tap softly.

  “Come in,” he says.

  Noah’s blond hair sticks up in all directions as he pours over paperwork. His suit looks like he slept in it—and he probably did. We’ve all been working twelve to fourteen hours a day for months preparing for the launch of Alfie—our home automation and security device. If we pull this off, we’ll redefine the entire industry. “Evianna, what’s so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

  “This.” I unlock my tablet and show him the logs. “Kyle transferred a copy of the code base to an off-site server five days ago. And a second copy last night.”

  His brow furrows, and he pages through the systems log. “He knows that’s a violation of company policy.”

  “We just renewed our contracts last month in preparation for the launch. The lawyer you brought in was very clear about the need for complete confidentiality.” I sink into Noah’s guest chair and work my jaw back and forth, hoping to avoid the searing headache I usually get when I’m stressed out. “Tell me not to fire him. Please.”

  “I can’t.” Noah shakes his head. “Fucking idiot. If we get audited and this comes out, we’re done for. Legally, we don’t have a choice.”

  “Fantastic.” The amount of sarcasm dripping from my tone could drown a small child. “I’ll put security on standby to escort him out of the building.”

  “Do it. Is this going to put us behind on the final feature work and bug fixes?” Noah pushes the tablet back across the desk and holds my gaze.

  “The rest of the devs won’t be happy about picking up Kyle’s slack. But we’ll make it. A few extra catered meals the next three weeks, a couple more bottles of bourbon for the launch party, and they’ll all pitch in.”

  “Then do what you have to do.” His tone tells me I won’t get anything more out of him, so I nod my thanks—not that he notices—and trudge back across the bullpen to my office.

  Time to put on my “I’m the boss” face.

  “Kyle,” I say from my office door ten minutes later, “can you come in here for a minute?”

  His desk is less than thirty feet away, and his eyes narrow as he rises and grabs his phone. “Sure, boss.”

  After I shut the door and slip back behind my desk, I fold my hands on the leather blotter to stop them from shaking. “Kyle, we have a problem.”

  “I knocked out those three bugs from yesterday,” he says, then runs his hand through his jet black hair. “Checked them again this morning. No performance degradation at all.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” I angle my monitor towards him and bring up the system logs. “You made a complete backup of Alfie’s code base twice in the last five days. Want to tell me why?”

  “I…can’t.” His pale cheeks redden, and he starts to fidget with the employee badge clipped to his belt loop. “But I’m the only one who has access to the cloud drive. The code’s safe. I’m not doing anything that’s going to hurt the company. I swear.”

  My heart hurts. He sounds so sincere, but we have rules for a reason. And there’s no legitimate cause for him to take code home with him. Not when he has access to the company’s servers remotely. “Kyle, what you did is against company policy. The new employment agreements we all signed two weeks ago? We all read them. Noah brought in a lawyer to explain all the legalese. What you did is a fireable offense.”

  “What?” His brown eyes widen, and he leaps up to start pacing the room. “You can’t fire me. You need me to finish Alfie. And I just wanted to…help.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” I say quietly. “I need your employee badge.”

  “No!” Kyle slams his palms down on my desk. “I’ve given this company two years of my life. Days and nights. Weekends. Holidays. This is bullshit!”

  “The logs don’t lie, Kyle. You know how sensitive this project is. You’ve done great work for us, but this…you knew this was against policy, and you did it twice.”

  “I was worried, Evianna. Something’s not right with the code. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure, and this was the only way.” Kyle’s voice turns pleading, but there’s still a hint of anger under his words. “I haven’t shared the code with anyone. It’s safe.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the code. All our performance indicators are just where they should be. Error rates far under benchmarks. Alfie’s solid.”r />
  “Oh my God—” Something shifts in Kyle’s voice, and he balls his hands into fists. “You know…don’t you? You’re part of this. Evianna, if you fire me, when everything goes to shit, you won’t have anyone who knows how to fix these…problems. The launch will fail. And your reputation…the whole company’s reputation…”

  Sucking in a quick breath, I reach for the phone. “Stan, please send Security to my office.”

  “Security? Evianna, come on!” Kyle throws up his hands, and my heart starts pounding against my ribs. He’s just a kid. Twenty-four at most, and probably all of one hundred and fifty pounds. But right now, he’s looking at me like I just killed his puppy.

  As soon as two beefy guys wearing dark blue suits enter my office, I open a secure browser connection with a few keystrokes. “Log in to your cloud storage, show me where you uploaded the code, and hard delete it. While I watch. No backups.”

  “Evianna, listen to me—” He lunges for my hand, but Jimmy, the older of the two security guards, grabs Kyle’s arm.

  “Easy there, kid. Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Jimmy says.

  Fear creeps into Kyle’s eyes, and his shoulders slump. “I wasn’t going to…”

  I nudge the keyboard closer to him. “Delete the files and hand over your access card. We’ll have any personal effects at your desk sent to you.”

  I hate firing people. The betrayal in Kyle’s eyes makes my heart hurt as I watch him navigate to a secure cloud server, enter a long string of letters and numbers, and show me the directory he created.

  After I verify the size of the folder is the same approximate size as the data he transferred, I nod. “Delete it. And all the backups.”

  He turns off automatic data recovery, purges the directory, and empties the temporary trash files. “Satisfied?”